I consider myself an adventurous eater, and from an early age, I had a French-leaning palate. As soon as I learned to chew solid foods, I began inhaling Roquefort, paté, and on occasion, entire sticks of butter. But despite my penchant for richness, there are certain French foods that still scare the living daylights out of me. In some cases, it’s the result of a past trauma, and in others, it’s just an instinct that whispers in my ear, “Run far and fast away from this food.” These are the items on my Do-Not-Eat list:

Boudin noir and mashed potatoes (Roboppy)

1. Boudin noir (a.k.a. blood sausage) is just that: a disturbingly purple sausage full of pork and pig’s blood. The name alone is enough to make any rational person run for the hills, but then of course, there’s the taste. Have you ever been on a car trip and passed through rural territory, only to have your air supply adulterated by the putrid smell of cow and pig manure? That’s pretty much what blood sausage tastes like, only more potent, because this time you’re not just smelling it, you’re eating it.

How do I know? I used to work for a French man who cooked lunch for our team every day. In general, these lunches provided me with the opportunity to happily eat like a real Parisian. On some days, we’d have tomato tartelettes followed by roast chicken and fiery mustard, salad, yogurt and fruit, chocolate, and to punctuate it all, a strong espresso.

But on one occasion, I sat down and was promptly served blood sausage. Still a newbie, I was excited to try a regional specialty, especially one that was served with yummy cooked apples. But after one excruciatingly nasty bite, boudin noir went on my list of foods not to be repeated. I haven’t felt the same about poor, innocent apples ever since.

Boudin noir and caramelized apples (Sifu Renka)

2. It comes as no surprise that andouillette (a corse-grained sausage made with pork intestines and other mysterious chunks) is a polarizing food. One portion of the population loves to complain about its nastiness, and the other portion licks its lips at the very mention of it. When I first heard the complaints of the former group, I used to think, “How bad could it really be?” Surely these weaklings were exaggerating. But recently, I had my first (and last) run-in with the dreaded thing.

I had taken off for a lovely weekend in Normandy, determined to eat “locally”: Calvados, caramel, apples, cider, Camembert… how can you go wrong? Well, here’s how. We were almost done with an incredible meal at Le P’tit Resto in Bayeux (which I highly recommend) when I opted for the cheese course: Pont-l’Évêque wrapped around a delicate slice of andouillette. After one bite, it was clear this was not going to happen. Trying to keep my gag reflex in check, I stealthily hid the remains of the offensive thing under the few salad leafs on my plate. I thought I had done a fairly convincing job, but when the waitress returned, she immediately recognized my trick and made a frowny face. I began to make excuses, and then suddenly realized, “Wait a minute. You just fed me intestinal chunks. Shame on you.” Then again, I just voluntarily ate them in the name of haute cuisine. Shame on me.

Left: steak tartare (NwongPR); Right: a Parisian butcher truck (Austinevan)

3. It’s time for a breather: steak tartare. This one isn’t so bad. When mixed with the right proportions of onions, raw egg, capers, mustard and Worcestershire sauce, it basically tastes like a raw hamburger. It’s just that I prefer my hamburgers cooked—go figure. I will eat occasional bites of tartare, but a whole plate? No thank you. It’s an issue of volume, I suppose. Everything in moderation, especially ground-up cow.

Fromage de Tete (Roboppy)

4. And then there’s fromage de tête, or head cheese. Call me unsophisticated, but this name just does not appeal. It generally comes in a terrine and consists of “parts of a cow’s head” set in gelatin. The parts can vary, of course, and sometimes they’ll even throw in some tongue, feet, or heart. Bonus! I have yet to eat this delicacy, and I must admit, I’m in no hurry.

Oursin (Noodlepie)

5. Oursin. Sea urchin. I realize a lot of people like these guys, but to me, they taste and feel like a salt-saturated sponge in my mouth. You’re more likely to encounter them in the south of France, where people sometimes spread them on grilled bread and munch away. Just thinking about it makes me want to rinse my mouth out with soap, which would be an improvement on the briny explosion oursin imposes on the palette. I’ll stick with the good old cheese-and-baguette formula, thanks very much.

So there’s my list. What about you, readers? Any French food traumas to report?

Related links:

• And that’s not it! Check this list out for more freaky French foods
• It had to happen: Haribo Fraise Tagada flavored macarons
• Dorie Greenspan has the low-down on steak tartare

Written by Tory Hoen for the HiP Paris Blog. Looking for a fabulous vacation rental in Paris, London, Provence, or Tuscany? Check out Haven in Paris.

Yes, more chocolate! Paris does not lack for it. But in a town that boasts everything from over-the-top delicacies to perfectly executed classics, we’re always impressed when a shop manages to distinguish itself from the cacao-hawking competition.

Puerto Cacao is not the most decadent, shocking or renowned chocolate shop in Paris, but it might just be the most conscientious. On a recent visit, we sat down with store manager José Evrard to learn more about owner Guillaume Hermitte’s vision for an équitable (fair-trade) chocolate shop that does as much to promote social good as it does to promote deliciousness.

Amazing hot chocolate! Tory Hoen

Hermitte’s team works directly with Venezuelan cacao producers, cutting out unnecessary middlemen who might drive up prices for consumers and deprive cacao producers of fair payment. In addition, they work with “entreprises d’insertion,” organizations that help people who have encountered various difficulties (poverty, imprisonment, etc.) re-enter the workforce and improve their lives.

So if you had any doubts, the mission is sound. But let’s get down to business—what about the chocolate?

Julien Hausherr

The store is stocked with classics like chocolate bars in a variety of flavors (like white chocolate with a sprinkling of pink pepper, milk chocolate with cashews), elegant pastilles, eight kinds of chocolate bark (we were intrigued by the milk chocolate with sesame seeds), an ever-flowing fondue fountain, and some crazy chocolate masks that you can decorate with edible paint. If yours turns out to be less than a masterpiece, you can just eat it and call it a day.

Julien Hausherr

After browsing the goods, I started sampling. Of course, I had to try the chocolat chaud. Here, it’s made with rich organic milk, 100% pâte de cacao, a splash of vanilla and a hint of organic sugar. The overall effect is decidedly grown-up. I could see a sugar-seeking child being disappointed by the bitter finish, but for an aspiring adult like me, this interpretation provided a not-too-cloying way to appreciate a mugful of liquid chocolate.

Julien Hausherr

More moderate folks might have stopped there, but I persevered, digging into a slice of the fresh-baked fondant au chocolat, which was perhaps the richest version I’ve ever encountered. The oils from the cacao were literally oozing out of the deep, chocolate slice, and as I washed it down with the chocolat chaud, I suddenly understood the meaning of true gluttony. And it felt good… for a minute. A paralyzing chocolate coma ensued.

Julien Hausherr

Regardless, this socially conscious shop (located just across from the Marché d’Aligre) is well worth a stop. In addition to decadent desserts, Puerto Cacao also offers 4 different weekend brunch menus featuring homemade jams, chocolate spreads, organic bread, and savory tarts. They are also happy to host bachelorette parties in which brides-to-be can gather their friends around the fondue fountain to kiss their singledom goodbye. Bittersweet to say the least.

Puerto Cacao, 2, rue Théophile Roussel 75012 Paris Tel: 01 43 47 58 60   

Related links:

• David Lebovitz makes a mouth watering chocolate hazelnut spread.
• Lindsey Tramuta writes a review about Télescope a fab new coffee joint by Palais Royal in Paris.
• Do it in Paris also likes Puerto Cacao

Written by Tory Hoen for the HiP Paris Blog. Photos by Julien Hausherr; Contact: julienhausherr@hotmail.fr. Looking for a fabulous vacation rental in Paris, London, Provence, or Tuscany? Check out Haven in Paris.

Didier Gauducheau

Just a few steps from one of Paris’s least charming spots (Les Halles) has suddenly appeared one of its most charming. Le Ballroom du Beef Club, the month-old clandestine cocktail den from the team behind the popular hideaways Experimental Cocktail Club, Curio Parlor and Prescription Cocktail Club, leaves no doubt that Paris has arrived as a serious mixology destination. In the space of just a few years, the scene here has evolved from an experimental “cult” to a full-blown cocktail culture—largely thanks to Olivier Bon, Pierre-Charles Cros, and Romée de Goriainoff, the handsome young triumvirate behind the quickly expanding Experimental empire (they have a spot in London and will open their first New York outpost later this month).

Didier Gauducheau

This time around, the team has upped the ante. Upstairs, The Beef Club is a stylish steak house (we can’t wait to settle into one of those mid-century modern chairs for a night of carnivorous hedonism), and downstairs, the cavernous Ballroom du Beef Club offers a sensationally sexy setting where you can slip in for an after-work drink or linger into the wee hours of the night.

Didier Gauducheau

By 9pm on a Wednesday, multiple groups had already discreetly tucked themselves into the bar’s various dark nooks, and at around 10pm each night, the bar’s second lounge space opens to accommodate the larger late-night crowd.

Didier Gauducheau

But in addition to providing a place where many a make-out session will inevitably go down, this is a sophisticated spot where both cocktail connoisseurs and the uninitiated can come to experience the work of skilled bartenders, who can improvise based on a client’s tastes and curiosities.

Experimental Cocktail Group

When we went, we sat at the bar and observed veteran mixologist Inko, whose roguish charm is trumped only by his skill behind the bar (he previously worked at Experimental Cocktail Club China Town in London). His first trick was an off-menu concoction called “Le Temps de Cerises” that he had learned from a former ECC colleague. (It’s this institutional knowledge that has set apart the Experimental bars over the years—members of the team often work at more than one spot, sharing recipes and continually taking the art of cocktails to the next sublime level). A combination of sherry, Peychaud’s bitters, cognac, grapefruit juice, and house-made almond syrup, this drink was smooth and refined, with a perfect balance of flavors and a subtle snap of citrus.

Experimental Cocktail Group

We were also intrigued by the Ballroom’s modern twists on classic cocktails. The julep contained 12-year-old El Dorado rum, Amaro liqueur and fresh mint, and it was a bit bolder than a typical bourbon-based julep—dry rather than sweet, with a bitter finish and strong hit of mint. The Pondicherry Mule seamlessly blended cardamom-infused vodka, Angostura bitters, ginger beer and lime juice, topped off star anise.

Didier Gauducheau

During our visit, co-founder Olivier Bon stopped by the bar, where Inko offered him a strawful of whatever he was concocting, like a mother bird feeding its young—assuming its young has a penchant for booze. Olivier explained that he and his partners have always tried to create havens where cocktail-cravers can enjoy sophisticated drinks in cool-but-relaxed settings, where service is friendly and the vibe is open and international.

He’s certainly achieved his goal with the Ballroom du Beef Club, and as soon as we save up a few more centimes (cocktails are 12-15€ a pop) we will definitely be back for more.

The Beef Club: 58 rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 75001. Tel: 09 52 52 89 34. Open Monday-Saturday, 7pm-2pm (sometimes later).

Related Links:

• Check out TMagazine’s review of the Beef Club here
• Alex Lobrano stirs up a little controversy with his review
• For more from these cocktails gurus, check out  Curio Parlor or the Prescription Cocktail Club

Written by Tory Hoen for the HiP Paris Blog. Didier Gauducheau, photographe, 06 03 54 39 73. Looking for a fabulous vacation rental in Paris, London, Provence, or Tuscany? Check out Haven in Paris.

Carin Olsson

When I decided to spend this April in Paris, my euphoria was tainted by just one gnawing concern—what am I going to wear? We all know the Parisian spring is knock-your-socks off beautiful, but it’s a tricky season, sartorially-speaking. It can be cool and rainy one minute, balmy the next. It can feel like full-on summer on one side of the street, and winter once you cross into the shade. I’m constantly shedding and donning layers, and my normal fear of color is supplanted by an impulse to integrate bolder hues.

Although my highly unhelpful inner voice said, “Just pack everything!,” I’ve managed to narrow things down. Below is a list of 10 spring essentials that I know will serve me well this season.

1. When boots start to feel too clunky but it’s not yet sandal season, I live in my Repettos. They come in a variety of fun colors, but you can wear the classic black with just about anything.

2. While I’m not always the savviest of shoppers, I regularly high-five myself for having bought this beige trench from Comptoir des Cotonniers. I wear it constantly—open, closed, buttoned, belted—and always feel put-together, even when I’m wearing nothing underneath. Just kidding.

3. I am generally an extremist when it comes to lip color: either very sheer gloss or devil-may-care matte red. But for spring, a more carefree coral (like Nars satin lipstick in Niagara) feels like the way to go.

4. Made in their atelier in the Marais, Monsieur’s delicate gold and silver rings, bracelets, necklaces and earrings add a perfectly simple accent to springtime garb. (53 Rue Charlot, 3ème arrondissement).

5. While my winter handbag is generally overflowing with unnecessary bulk—old receipts, dozens of pens, a single glove, matchbooks pilfered from various restaurants—I like to lighten up for spring. A saddle bag in a bright color, like this one from A.P.C., fits the bill perfectly.

6. It may not be time to set sail just yet, but you can get in the mood with classic stripes from St. James, the historic Normandy-based brand that has been shilling mariner shirts since 1889.

7. Rain or shine, don’t leave home without a sturdy parapluie. Monoprix has some cute ones right about now.

8. Friends and strangers alike have been known to sniff curiously at my neck when I’m wearing Tocca’s Florence, a cheerful blend of Bergamot, grapefruit leaves, gardenia, and blonde wood that supposedly conjures “old-world Paris.” Obviously, it’s intoxicating. Or maybe I’m just wearing too much perfume?

9. Sunglasses are perhaps the best way to prove to Parisians that you’re just as cool as they are. I am obsessed with my Paul Smith “Chaucers” in burgundy, and I’ve noticed quite a few stylish ladies striking a fashion-meets-hipster balance in Céline’s “Audrey” shades.

10. Come spring, I gravitate towards bolder hues, but sometimes, I’m still reluctant to be “that girl” wearing color in a sea of black-clad Parisians. I find a bright, lightweight scarf is the best way to indulge both my inner rebel and coward.

Written by Tory Hoen for the HiP Paris Blog. Looking for a fabulous vacation rental in Paris, London, Provence, or Tuscany? Check out Haven in Paris.

Years into my love affair with Paris, I’m still making ridiculous rookie mistakes. I suppose it’s time to accept that France will always have the upper hand, but it still stings.

My most recent humiliation is horse-related. Or at least, I thought it was.

Please note that I was a horse-obsessed child, so equine-related topics are particularly touchy for me. As a child, I would sometimes dress in riding garb for no reason at all. And while I was waiting for my parents to break down and buy me a real horse (never happened), I would drag garbage cans into the backyard and ride them, periodically switching from one member of the “herd” to the next. On any given afternoon, people in the house could gaze out and see me whipping a particularly stubborn garbage can with my riding crop.

Steak à Cheval (L. Richarz)

So when I first moved to Paris and started noticing “steak à cheval” on menus around town, I was wary. I knew there was a historical precedent of eating horse meat in France, but it seemed quite inhumane in this day and age. Nonetheless,  I assumed it was some kind of trendy gastronomic revival, and who was I to question the local gourmands? So I kept my mouth shut and simply avoided the dreaded horse steak when confronted with it.

Recently, I was visiting my boyfriend’s family in Brazil. One night, we sat down to dinner and I was presented with a traditional dish called bife a cavalo (in Portuguese), which translates to “horse-riding steak” or “steak à la horse.”

“Horse?” I asked, panic rapidly setting in.

“No, it’s like steak à cheval in France,” G explained.

“Sooo….. horse?” I wondered again.

It was at this point that I realized I’d been operating under a serious misapprehension, and it took the collision of three cultures for the truth to surface.

Tyrolian Andy

No wonder the French had seemed so lax about all that presumed “horse-eating”—they weren’t eating horse at all. It turns out that steak à cheval (or bife a cavalo) is merely a cut of beef with a fried egg on top. It turns out the French aren’t as barbaric as I thought! And it turns out I’m kind of an idiot.

I shudder to think what other misconceptions I’ve been carrying around all this time, but I have a feeling the truth will win out. Paris will see to that.

Related Links:

• Mark Bittman has his ideas about the best steaks in Paris
• Looking for non-steak options in Paris? Check out David Lebovitz’s handy guide (and the useful links below!)
• If you’re in the mood for a burger in Paris, check out Lindsey’s (Lost in Cheeseland) review of Blend

Written by Tory Hoen for the HiP Paris Blog. Looking for a fabulous vacation rental in Paris, Provence, or Tuscany? Check out Haven in Paris.

Film still from Midnight in Paris

“I don’t deliberately make a film a year, but that seems to be what happens,” Woody Allen told me when I caught up with him at an event last December in New York. “Eventually I will stop working or keel over, but so far everything’s been going along fine.”

At the time, he had just wrapped Midnight in Paris, which headlined this year’s Cannes Film Festival in May (and is now in theaters in France and the United States). I had been anticipating this film ever since my friend caught a glimpse of the crew shooting on one of the quais last fall, and I was curious to see how Allen would interpret (or misinterpret) Paris.

Pierre Guy, Confucion

In short, Midnight in Paris follows Owen Wilson’s character, an earnest American novelist, as he is unexpectedly lured into a magical world, populated by the likes of Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Picasso, Gertrude Stein, Dalí, Luis Buñuel, Man Ray, T. S. Eliot, and the list goes on. Late in the film, a spin through the Belle Epoque has Wilson rubbing shoulders with Gauguin, Degas and Toulouse-Lautrec.

Like many of Allen’s films, the whole thing was pretty far-fetched, but I must admit, it totally captivated me in the watching. More importantly, it made me laugh at myself—if only because it played with so many of the stereotypes that lure starry-eyed Americans (myself included) to Paris. Owen Wilson’s literary-inspired naïveté struck a serious chord with me. It’s no coincidence that when I first arrived, I named my blog A Moveable Beast in honor of the bohemian, writer-ly existence I planned to cultivate.

Film still from Midnight in Paris

But for all ex-pats who choose to live in Paris for romantic reasons, there eventually comes a reckoning. Amidst the magic, there are contemporary realities that ultimately chip away at one’s starry-eyed view of the city. As the film ended, I found myself craving a sequel where Owen Wilson stops cavorting with Gertrude Stein and actually tries to set up an SFR account, square away his carte de séjour, and find a taxi at 3am on a Saturday in the Marais. Alas, such activities don’t make for a very compelling film.

Little Brown Pen

For most ex-pats (Owen Wilson and myself included) the challenge of life in Paris is to balance the romance with the reality, to let yourself get carried away on occasion, but also stay grounded in the here and now. It’s quite possible to strike a satisfying equilibrium: you can pour over A Moveable Feast and get your apartment wired with Wifi, get lost in the photos of Robert Doisneau and lug lampshades home from BHV. Such activities are not mutually exclusive.

As Allen demonstrates in his film, there is the Paris we dream of, the Paris that exists, and the all-important intersection of the two. I consider myself to have one foot in reality and one foot in a completely absurd fantasy world—and that’s just how I like it.

Florent Solt

Related links:

• Watch the trailer for Midnight in Paris on Pret à Voyager
• Making Magique has some adorable Midnight in Paris-esque shots
• Tory chronicled her comical experiences in Paris on her blog, A Moveable Beast

Written by Tory Hoen for the HiP Paris Blog. Looking for a fabulous vacation rental in Paris, Provence, or Tuscany? Check out Haven in Paris.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve left a quirky store or hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Paris and thought, “How does that place stay in business?” And I mean that as the highest compliment.

While commerce in the rest of the world seems to be accelerating at a highly unpleasant rate, Parisian proprietors, on the other hand, know how to slow down—and still manage to survive.

Julien Hausherr

Olivier Camus’ Le Chapeau Melon is one such place. I first visited three years ago, just after I moved to Paris. The warm reception, perfect filet de boeuf, and eye-opening bottle of Morgon solidified my notion that I had come to the right city.

When I finally returned this spring, I was reminded all over again why Paris is the best place to eat in the world: nothing had changed. And rightly so—why mess with a good thing?

Julien Hausherr

Camus (who is also involved with foodie hub Le Baratin, just up the street from Le Chapeau Melon in Belleville) is known as one of Paris’ most dedicated cavistes and as an early proponent of the natural wine movement that is now sweeping the city. Le Chapeau Melon began as a wine store and evolved into a table d’hôte that now serves a €32.50 prix fixe menu (Wednesday-Saturday) and an à la carte selection on Sundays.

Julien Hausherr

It’s not a coincidence that “In Vinas No Veritas” is emblazoned on the wall above the door. Beginning at around €11 a bottle, the cave’s selection of French and Italian wines is diverse and thoughtfully selected, with many organic options available and a reasonable corkage fee (€8.50).  We opted, however, to try out a few different wines by the glass—a Chardonnay pétillant, a crisp Derain Chablis, a 2009 Guillot Bourgogne—to accompany the different courses.

Erica Berman

First up was a super fresh pair of oysters adorned with a Japanese ginger relish, followed by the entrée (a tomato-sardine tartelette for me and a pork carpaccio with a creamy anchovy-lemon sauce for G). For our main courses, we tried the lamb with a delicate mint and coconut sauce, and a joue de boeuf in broth with winter vegetables. Both were well cooked, unpretentiously presented, and quickly devoured.

Jerome, our friendly waiter, took the time to chat with us about the menu and the origin of its incredibly offerings: the duck came from Rouen, the pork from Pays Basque, and the fish from Saint-Jean-de-Luz. Regional sourcing at its best.

Julien Hausherr

By international standards (and even by Parisian standards) the service was frightfully slow, but perhaps that’s the point of Le Chapeau Melon. There is no table turnover, and as a result, the place takes on a “dinner party” ambiance where patrons linger over each spoonful. Over the course of the evening, you have plenty of time to analyze your fellow diners (a laid back international crowd) and to debate nihilism and the international drug trade (as we did).

After the three-hour meal, we strolled along the Rue de Belleville (downhill, not up), comforted by the thought that Paris still provides places where we can slow down and, simply, sit.

Erica Berman

Written by Tory Hoen for the HiP Paris Blog.  Julien Hausherr is a photographer based in Paris, specializing in architecture, still-life and reporting. Contact: julienhausherr@hotmail.fr. Looking for a fabulous vacation rental in Paris, Provence, or Tuscany? Check out Haven in Paris.

When I lived in Paris full-time, I experienced the occasional bout of FFF (French Food Fatigue). My friends and I re-energized our taste buds with falafel, ramen and freakishly cheap dumplings in Belleville, but we all agreed that Paris needed a low-key Mexican spot.

Enter Candelaria, perhaps the buzziest opening of the spring. Less than two months old, this tucked-away spot in the haut Marais packs a double punch. The front section of the restaurant is a sparsely-decorated taco stand, which leads to a sultry cocktail den that you could easily overlook if you weren’t paying attention.

So pay attention! Tacos up front, booze in the back. I highly recommend sticking around for both, as I did when I visited.

The taqueria dining experience is decidedly casual. Grab a seat at the counter if you want to observe the action in the tiny kitchen, or if you’re with a group, you can try to claim the restaurant’s only table. Regardless, prepare to battle the crowds: when it comes to seating, demand far outweighs supply at this point.

But if you time it right (they’re open from noon-11pm, Tuesday-Sunday), you will not be disappointed. First of all, chef Luis Rendon is a Mexico City transplant, and he takes a simple but precise approach to his native cuisine. The concise menu includes reasonably priced meat and vegetarian classics like rajas con queso (sauteed peppers with melted cheese), tacos de carnitas (roasted pork), tostadas with stewed chicken or crumbly queso fresco (it’s the real deal). Items on the menu range from 2-5 Euros, and pair perfectly with the Mexican bottled beer available for 4-5 Euros.

Once you fill up on Mexican edibles, the real fun begins. Slipping into the hidden bar at the back of the restaurant feels like entering an alternate universe that’s part surfer hangout, part urban oasis, and part classic Parisian cave. The white walls of the taqueria suddenly give way to a modern, candle-lit space, where the original stone walls have been updated with modern wooden finishes and colorful mosaics.

We barely knew where to begin with the extensive and enticing cocktail menu. Larger groups might be tempted by the punch for 4-6 people (cachaca, sloe gin, lemon, grapefruit and champagne) for 48 Euros. But we decided to try out an array of drinks (at 12 Euros each):

• The Santa Margarita: Tequila, agave, hibiscus, vanilla, lime
• Pisco Disco: Pisco, aperol, house-made orgeat, lime, bitters
• Love by the Moon: Green tea-infused vodka, house-made citrus syrup, lime and house-made grenadine

Owner Adam Tsou swung by to chat and personally recommended the Pisco Disco, which comes adorned with edible glitter. Born in Connecticut and a graduate of New York University, Adam opened Candelaria along with his wife, Carina Tsou, and their partner Josh Fontaine (also a Connecticut-born NYU grad). All three met in Paris, where they worked at local watering holes such as Experimental Cocktail Club and The Moose.

It seems they combined the best of those environments, creating a sexy (but pretension-free) space that offers up some of the best cocktails in Paris. Many of the ingredients used to flavor and sweeten the drinks are made in-house, demonstrating the bartenders’ commitment to doing things right. And while Paris hasn’t always been a cocktail-y town, joints like Candelaria are swiftly putting it on the global mixology map.

I guess you can have your cocktail and drink it too. And while you’re at it, stay for tacos.

52 Rue de Saintonge, 3rd arrondissement. Tel: 01 42 74 41 28.

Further reading on this go-to spot:

• Trail of Crumbs on Candelaria
• The Paris Blog also reports on Candelaria.
• Still more on Candelaria on Food Buzz
• David Lebovitz on great Mexican spots in Paris

Written by Tory Hoen for the HiP Paris Blog. All images by Julien Hausherr. Julien Hausherr is a photographer based in Paris, specializing in architecture, still-life and reporting. Contact: julienhausherr@hotmail.fr. Looking for a fabulous vacation rental in Paris, Provence, or Tuscany? Check out Haven in Paris.

When I arrive in Paris, it never hits me all at once. Rather, the realization that I’ve returned to my city-of-choice creeps up on me via small encounters, random observations and chance interactions. And when I finally realize where I am—Paris!—I begin to wonder, “Why did I ever leave?”

We’ll leave that question for another time, but for now, here’s how I know I’ve arrived.

1. I forget how to tell time, and relinquish the notion of scheduling. On my most recent visit, it took me a full 36 hours to realize that daylight savings had occurred. It didn’t help that when I had arrived a few days earlier and asked my boyfriend, “Where’s your clock?,” his response was: “There is no clock. I’m your clock.” Well, it turns out he’s a very unreliable clock—albeit a handsome one.

2. Everyone is buzzing about the same new spot.

Candelaria storefront on the rue Saintonge (Lost in Cheeseland)

Of course, this happens in every city, but in New York, the buzz is more liberally distributed. Paris’ slower rate of restaurant turnover means you can literally watch the swarm of foodies descend on the newest (and hopefully well-prepared) hot spots. This time around, it was all about Candelaria, which is to restaurants what the mullet is to haircuts: simple up front, hidden party in the back.

Delicious tacos at Candelaria (Lost in Cheeseland)

3. I can eat my weight in food and not get (too) fat. It’s one of the most beautiful unsolved mysteries of life in Paris. I can spend a week eating nothing but St. Marcellin, steak, tarte tatin and guzzling Cote du Rhone, and somehow end up thinner. There must be something in the Parisian water. Or perhaps I have gained weight and everyone’s just kindly letting me ride out this illusion. Hmmm…

Alexdecarvalho

4. I start buying myself roses. Roses aren’t normally my thing, but in Paris, I always come across these special ivory-colored ones that have a slight pink tint and a green tinge around the edges of the petals. They remind me of ballerinas, and at just 7 Euros per botte (“bunch”) at my local market, they suddenly morph from “occasional indulgence” into “daily necessity.”

There’s nothing wrong with buying yourself roses (Ddofr)

5. I spot my first dead pigeon. I admit this is a weird one, but nothing says “Paris” to me like a dead pigeon in the street. I have yet to get to the bottom of this mystery (a ravenous pigeon-eating monster roams the streets at night?), but every time I’m here, I come across a carcass or two. I want to say, “Be more careful, guys!” But who am I to tell a Parisian pigeon how to live its life?

Related links:

• Girl’s Guide to Paris’ review of Candelaria
• The things Amy Thomas only sees in Paris
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Written by Tory Hoen for the HiP Paris Blog. Looking for a fabulous vacation rental in Paris, Provence, or Tuscany? Check out Haven in Paris.

Ballet flats (Paris in Pink)

Casual shoppers, beware. The French sales are just around the corner and many a French fashionista is getting ready to pounce on items she has secretly coveted all Fall. In all honesty, though, the soldes are often the one moment of fashion folly many Parisiennes allow themselves. For decades, one market has proven remarkably resistant to passing trends: Paris. Despite jumping at the occasional fad (the Balmain-inspired shoulder pad, the hardware-adorned gladiator sandal), Parisian shoppers — both young and old — follow certain cardinal rules in their shopping habits, year-in and year-out.

The key to this eternal French chic may lie in a natural sense of restraint and discernment. In considering her past wardrobe choices, a French woman is less inclined to wonder, “What was I thinking?” because (most likely) it’s what she’s still thinking: invest in high-quality staples and err on the side of understated elegance.

An Hermes scarf, guaranteed to never go out of style (Paris in Pink)

Here are the most time-tested items that can aid your journey towards impeccable Parisian dressing.

1. The scarf. Parisians’ year-round obsession with scarves has more to do with style than climate. For warmer months, a lightweight silk scarf (think Hermès) can sass up a basic outfit. As it gets colder, reach for heavier knits.

2. The trench. This old-school staple projects refined sexiness, while also combating the relentless Parisian drizzle.

3. The ballet flat. Brigitte Bardot helped put Repetto on the map when she began traipsing around town in the brand’s dance shoes in 1956. Nowadays, a pair or two is de rigueur for any pavement-pounding Parisian.

4. The pump. For the office or evening hours, an elegant heel is the way to go. Just make sure it’s walk-able—teetering is never a good look.

Fur and pumps – the Parisian mantra (Paris in Pink)

5. Le smoking. Created by YSL in 1966, this tuxedo jacket set the precedent in sexy menswear-inspired style for women. Today, you’ll find variations everywhere from H&M to the fashion house that originated the look.

6. The black pant. It’s a no-brainer, but a well-made pair of black pants (or a few, in various cuts and materials) provide the foundation for many a Parisian wardrobe.

7. White tailored shirt. Clean, classic and always in style.

8. The classic bag. Hermès, Chanel, Louis Vuitton. Bags that can appear too trendy in other environments somehow offer just the right touch when slung over the arm of a nattily dressed Parisian.

A classic Parisian look (Paris in Pink)

9. Touch of fur. Even the most basic outfit can be amped up by a hint of fur in the form of a hat, a stole, or a glove.

10. Minimal make-up. Well-maintained skin and hair are the domain of the French woman. Beyond that, a red lip or a kohl-lined eye can add drama—just don’t overdo it.

Finally, remember that it’s less about assembling a look than it is about owning it, so don’t forget to cultivate your je ne sais quoi.

Need a daily fashion fix? We love these:

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Written by Tory Hoen for the HiP Paris blog. Featuring images by Camille from Paris in Pink. Camille is a French-American freelance writer living in Paris, and she adores pink! Looking for a fabulous vacation rental in Paris, Provence, or Tuscany? Check out Haven in Paris.